Overtime in the Boss's Bed. Nicola Marsh
with hers, giving her a much needed anchor in a suddenly stormy sea of passion.
His hand engulfed hers, strong, capable, and a lick of heat shot up her arm. She searched her scrambled brain for the right words—any words that would sound remotely sane and nothing like ravish me now, I’m yours.
‘I can leave if you want.’
Cue the exit music. Cue the curtain call.
But not before they’d had a rousing performance.
Reaching out with her free hand, she bunched a fistful of his soft cotton shirt and tugged. Hard.
‘I don’t want you to go—’
He crushed his mouth to hers, snatching the rest of her words, the rest of her breath, in an explosion of heat and passion and driving need.
She clung to him, desperate to get closer, elated when he hauled her into his arms and backed her up against the nearest wall.
Wrapping her legs around him, she gasped at the bulge pressing against her core, her pelvis moving of its own volition, eager for more, demanding satisfaction.
‘Oh, yeah,’ she murmured, as he cupped her butt, moved back and forth, rubbing against her, teasing her, making her wild with wanting him.
He tore his mouth from hers, his passion-glazed stare mirroring hers.
‘This is crazy.’
‘Yeah, crazy…’
Resting his forehead on hers, he shook his head. ‘I don’t do impulsive stuff like this.’
‘Me either.’
Sliding her hands up from his chest, to cradle his face and push it back until she could look him in the eye, she knew she couldn’t stop this.
She didn’t want to.
The old Starr had crashed to earth around the time she’d walked in on Sergio, in their apartment, in bed with another woman.
Time to say farewell to her old life. Time for the new Starr to rise and shine brightly. Starting with losing herself for one incredible night with a hot guy.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘This.’
She didn’t second-guess her decision, didn’t give it another thought as she drew his face back to hers and plastered her lips to his, arching her pelvis, locking her legs tighter around his waist and squeezing.
His low, guttural groan ripped the air as he deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth, their tongues mating in a sensuous dance as old as the waltz.
Long, hot, moist French kisses went on for ever, bringing her to the edge without him laying a finger anywhere near her throbbing core.
Tension tightened within her body, built, climbed, until she was boneless with desire. She clung to him as he left her mouth, his lips trailing downwards, nipping her erect nipples through the thin silk of her dress. His hands toyed with the edge of her panties beneath her bunched skirt.
Clamping her knees around his hips, she groaned, arched upwards—demanding more, demanding everything he had to give.
‘If you keep making sounds like that, this isn’t going to last long.’
‘Fast is good,’ she bit out as he nibbled her neck. She grabbed his hand from her butt and guided it between their bodies. ‘Hard and fast.’
He tensed, every magnificent inch of him straining towards her. ‘You sure?’
‘Sure…Ooh…yeah…’
Holding on tight, he moved her from the wall to a nearby chair, rested her butt on the padded edge before leaning back to devour her with his hungry gaze.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, his husky tone bordering on reverent as he made quick work of the buttons holding her dress together, almost ripping it in his haste to get her naked.
She quivered with anticipation as he let out a long, low whistle, snapping the front clasp on her bra, pushing it aside before ducking his head to feast on her.
First the right breast, then the left. He licked and suckled and laved until her head thrashed, her hips arched and her hands delved between them, eager to feel him inside her. Now.
‘Wow.’
Her hand briefly encountered an erection, a very large erection, and then he pulled back.
‘You want fast? I’m assuming not that fast?’
She laughed, amazed they were trading banter as if they’d known each other a lifetime.
Sex with Sergio had been lacklustre, had never given her the true intimacy she craved. Not that this mind-blowing foreplay with a guy she’d just met could be classed as intimate, but there was something about him that set her at ease, despite the fact she was almost naked in front of him.
Reaching up, she scraped her nails lightly down his chest.
‘I want you. Now.’
‘Decisive. I like that.’
He tugged her panties off, delved his fingers into her slick heat and pleasured her until she screamed his name. Twice.
‘You’re so hot,’ he murmured, reaching into his back pocket, pulling a condom out of his wallet and sheathing himself before she’d even realised he’d ditched the pants.
Eyeing his impressive arousal, she said, ‘So are you.’
His blistering stare never left hers as he slid into her, inch by exquisite inch, until he filled her, fulfilled her.
‘Jeez…’
He braced himself over her, moved out a fraction, back in, the delicious erotic friction sparking fire as her hips bucked, her insides clenched.
With a low moan he drove into her, again and again and again, harder, faster, his breathing ragged as her hands dug into his hips, urging him on.
This time her orgasm smashed into her with the force of a Sydney hailstorm and she arched upwards, her mouth slamming into his as he tensed and exploded in his climax.
His barely audible expletive echoed her thoughts, echoed what they’d just done.
She’d just had mind-blowing sex with a virtual stranger.
The best sex of her life.
A life which was out of control—which explained why she’d done this.
What she couldn’t explain was the compulsion to do it all over again. Repeatedly.
Holding her close, he strummed her back and she closed her eyes, blindsided by the yearning to have him hold her and do this all night long.
‘I should leave,’ he said.
He should.
But she didn’t want him to—didn’t want to spend her last night in the only city she’d ever truly called home alone.
Leaning back, she cupped his cheek, looked him in the eye.
‘Don’t go.’
CHAPTER FOUR
STARR stared at the rumpled business card clutched in her hand and reread the address twice, before hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder and pushing through the wrought-iron gate—the side gate, which would have been imposing in itself if it hadn’t been positioned next to the hugest pair of intricately carved black iron gates she’d ever seen.
Some place, she thought, straining for a glimpse of the house as she strolled up the hedged garden path.
Sydney Harbour was lined with posh suburbs, with mega-million mansions vying for the best views and highest position, but from what she’d seen of the swanky Melbourne